Blood and diesel

My trips to Ramsbottom United usually involve a detour between the tram and the bus for a Chadwick's black pudding from their stall on Bury Market. The final stage never seems as smooth as it looks on the timetable, this time featuring two buses arriving at the advertised time, only for both drivers to announce they were there for the next service 15 minutes hence. In Ramsbottom, they had been doing something that seemed a terrible waste of blood based comestibles.

The main event in town this weekend was the East Lancashire Railway Diesel Gala, causing a queue at the level crossing as I arrived. I paused briefly to listen to a Class 33 setting off, disappointed that the train was not heavy enough, nor the line speed high enough, to give the sound I remember from my local line as a child.

We played downhill in the first half. I intended to go the side away from the clubhouse, but took one look at the rigging holding up the net and decided against going behind it. Successful action photography needs to be unobtrusive, which is not achieved by demolishing the goal or being suspended in the net wearing orange high vis (also from Bury Market).

I therefore sat down in front of the wall. Legendary supporter Dave "The Monster" was behind me, paying close attention to our goal. "Clear it Angus!" "Good save Angus!" When I pointed out he should be referring to Marcus, he replied "same difference", which is probably not true if you are trying to attract his attention.

Marcus Burgess gathers at the feet of Tom Brooks

The standing on the cricket club side is quite narrow, with the fence close to the pitch, which makes the crowd appear particularly in focus, with everyone in a neat row. This is accentuated by my low photography position.

Josef Faux

The hosts retweeted my collection, and a few home supporters enjoyed picking themselves and their friends out in the crowd.

Chaps called Harry were well represented.

Harry Cain

Ramsbottom, like Mossley, is becoming one of those places where many of us enjoy the surroundings, but usually come away less happy with the result. Normal service was maintained when the hosts scored what proved to be the only goal of the game.

For the second half, I again decided not to navigate the assault course of the net rigging, and positioned myself to look downhill on the cricket club side.

Valter Fernandes runs down the wing for me - well, up really, it's quite a slope

Whilst the half was not without action, this was a game both sides would regard as less than classic.

I have neglected my photography of towns and surroundings for recent games, so, finding myself at the station when a couple of trains were due, I decided to get a few snaps, taking in the town, and back to the station to see the last service of the day, the final whistle (seriously nerdy railway joke).

40 145

Having then visited the Irwell Works Brewery, the buses were as unreliable as earlier in the day, so I got home an hour later than planned, which, if I had known could have been better spent in the pub.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen on the club website here, and on Google Photos here.

Final score: Ramsbottom United 1 Prescot Cables 0.

Mining

My limited research into the history of sports and those who played them in Lancashire and Yorkshire suggests a rough rule of thumb: after 1895, mill workers seem to have played football, miners played rugby league, and farmers and the commercial classes played rugby union, with football becoming more popular amongst the miners by the time of, and certainly after, the First World War. This occupational grouping makes sense - to arrange sport after work, your colleagues are probably a good group amongst whom to start.

There is therefore a strong presence of amateur rugby league in the former Lancashire coalfield with many club names referring to their industrial heritage. With Thatto Heath Crusaders playing at Leigh Miners Rangers, I found a bus from St Helens, and having paid the extra £2 for an Arriva North West monthly season ticket rather than a Merseyside one, it was all included.

On arrival, I went through the large, well maintained bar. At the cash desk by the door I received a neat nightclub style stamp, which, as soon as I put my hand in my pocket, smudged to look like a nasty insect bite. The pitch was railed on both sides, but, being used to football ground gradings, I was unsure how to get to the other side, until I realised they trust you to walk behind the dead ball line without railing it off. To be fair to football, given that a try is scored some yards away, there is less chance of a player running into you and sending you flying.

I am not sure what colours of kit the match officials have available to them in the amateur game, but I was not entirely convinced by their choice.

Having said that, the only other colour I have seen at this level is yellow, which would have been even more of a clash.

The hosts were propping up the division, with the visitors challenging for the top spot, but there was no room for complacency. Leigh had the stronger start, but were unable to turn it into points. A home supporter may have been a bit pessimistic: about a minute after the first Thatto Heath try came an announcement asking for someone to move their car as it was blocking another vehicle. Another local was a bit enthusiastic and had to be escorted off when the try was scored, perhaps not appreciating it was for the opposition.

Leigh looked as though they may have a chance towards the end of the first half, taking advantage of errors from the visitors.

Thatto Heath continued strongly in the second half, although the game was never totally out of Leigh's reach, the visitors eventually securing two valuable league points.

Photographing rugby, I have a "try is a try" principle, in the same way as the corresponding "goal is a goal" principle in football. I could probably have done with showing a bit more post to see the location.

By the time rugby league came about, railway time was firmly established, ensuring time was the same at all places in the country rather than varying by a few minutes from town to town. It is a little known fact that the 34 bus from St Helens to Leigh prefers the older system. At least that is the best explanation for the outward bus getting earlier as it got nearer to Leigh, and now I trotted up to the bus station a good two minutes early only to see the bus drive off.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen here.

Final score Leigh Miners Rangers 20 Thatto Heath Crusaders 28

Bridge the gap

Arriving for Prescot Cables' game at Tadcaster Albion, I quickly spotted the town's main claim to fame for the last couple of years. It spans the River Wharfe, one side in the West Riding proper, and the other in the Ainsty of York. The latter's agricultural revenue once supported the city but by the end of its existence as an administrative entity, it was a wild and lawless place. It is a lot quieter these days, as we were to find. The bridge, being the only practical route between the two halves, showed smooth new stone from repairs after it was partially demolished by a flood in 2015.

Give it 20 years of weathering and you will not be able to see the join. Looking up the story of the collapse, I see our hosts allowed their car park to be used for access to the temporary footbridge in place during the repairs.

A number of our train crew made a weekend of it in York, and, as is his wont, Dr Phil brought along some more Doctors (at least I think they all are). Our pharmacological expertise (nothing performance enhancing, most of them work on livers) was augmented by Benny, who has been to a few games, and Cables newcomers Tammy, Victoria and Amy. I was just there for the day, so it was a lot cheaper to travel via Leeds. Having grown up in the countryside, striding across fields with nothing in the way, but near enough to London to experience fast moving crowds, I often think that if places like Leeds had the number of people found in London, they would literally come to a standstill, with people gathered round train doors and no-one able to get on or off, and the streets blocked by people ambling along three abreast at a glacial pace. Dodging these obstacles, I made it to Leeds Bus Station for the Coastliner bus, which was not going as far as the coast, but that is Yorkshire economy for you, in the same way they lack trebles on their dartboards.

A Yorkshire dartboard, spotted by Dr James

I pottered around taking a few pictures before a pre match pint in the Howden Arms opposite the ground. I have had Samuel Smith's Old Brewery Bitter in London and not been keen, but either my tastes have changed or it really does taste better in Tadcaster.

Marcus Burgess

It looked as though every inch of the pitch perimeter was taken with advertising, although on closer inspection many of the boards belonged to the club - not necessarily a bad thing, as, when you see the photos, you know where you are.

Josh Dolling. Ee ba gum.

The weather was good for action photography, with about seven oktas of light cloud. In a week when I pulled the leg of my friend Matt from the Lost Boyos for dodgy geography where the lack of knowledge turned out to be mine, I can still remember the unit of measurement for cloud cover. It was a decent level of light for fast shutter speeds, and the cloud means an absence of distracting shadows.

Josef Faux - 1/1000s f/5.6 ISO500 300mm

We opened the scoring inside the first few minutes with a goal from Chris Almond.

Chris Almond shoots for goal ...

... and watches it go in.

It was an evenly balanced half, with the hosts equalising, Chris Almond scoring again, and the hosts once again drawing level.

Visiting the tea bar at half time, I got the end of a batch of chips - all the better, as there were plenty of the crispy bits near the bottom of the pan. The weather was more changeable in the second half, with some sun and a couple of light showers.

Andy Scarisbrick

A further goal eluded both sides, not for want of trying. With Goole losing, we restored another point of the cushion between us and them.

After the game, most of our party stayed for a couple of drinks, in the Angel and White Horse, where Samuel Smith keep their white dray horses, and the Coach and Horses next to the bus station. We were probably a bit noisy for the town, where most pubs seemed geared towards dining, and they may well have been relieved when we took ourselves back to the city.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen on the club website here, and on Google Photos here.

Final score: Tadcaster Albion 2 Prescot Cables 2 (Almond 2)

Top of the league

One disadvantage of a trip to Clitheroe is that the train journey is somewhat slow, made slower when I looked at my options for this game by a higher fare via Manchester than Preston, which has not been the case in the past, and lengthy waits in Preston and Blackburn. I looked for alternatives, and found a bus. Preston Bus Station was on the large side when it was built in 1968, and is now four or five times the size it needs to be, lending it a somewhat spectral air. With apologies to the Prestonian Francis Thompson,
     The stands are full of shades near the service for the coast,
     And the ghostly buses wait for the boarding of a ghost.
           O my Bristols and my Fleetlines long ago!

Joining me aboard the 280 to Skipton were a young couple with Norman shields, a pike, a bow and quiver of arrows, and large bags that may have contained chain mail. I thought they might be defending against Yorkshire incursions across the County Brook in the Barnoldswick area, but they got off just before me in Clitheroe. I hope they were not planning to keep watch from the Castle, as heavy rain meant the advertised views were once again unavailable.

The County Brook - undefended against marauding Yorkshirepersons

On arrival, I adjourned to the Ale House. I was not surprised to learn later that Richie, our leader in beer and pub choices, and his wife Sharon had been in. I missed them by a few minutes, as they followed a recommendation to try the newly opened Bowland Brewery Beer Hall at Holmes Mill. As he declared himself satisfied, I tried it myself after the game. I found it busy, with people mainly at tables, but with a few wing armchairs dotted around for the likes of me with a pint and a paper

Clitheroe is one of the better equipped grounds for watching in the rain, as there is cover on three sides and seats on the fourth. I took up position behind the goal we were attacking. After 10 minutes I was rewarded by James Edgar crossing in ...

... for Rob Doran to score.

This makes it in on the "goal is a goal" principle, but also on the "how is that even possible?" principle. If I were to put my foot down at that angle, hopping would be my preferred mode of transport for some time to come.

The crowd were doing their best to keep dry.

Bram Johnstone

I continued my series of unsettlingly large advertising faces.

Ben Cartwright

We held on to our lead for the first half. The hosts were awarded a penalty early in the second, and took the opportunity to level the score. They fully tested our defence, and Tom Brocklehurst put in a strong performance.

With seven or eight minutes to go, Joe Nicholson released a shot from 20 yards out (the distance handily confirmed by the pitch markings).

With this goal securing the win, and Farsley Celtic being involved in the FA Cup, we took an unaccustomed position at the top of the table - I think for the first time since promotion from the North West Counties League in 2003. Keeping last season's team together and having two competitive cup fixtures in pre season has enabled us to press home an early advantage. With the League not having midweek fixtures because half would fall to FA Cup replays (an approach with which I am not sure I agree, every fixture completed is one less to worry about in March after a bad winter), we would be there for at least a week - hopefully longer, but the week was guaranteed.

The rest of the pictures can be seen on the club website here, and on Google Photos here.

Final score: Clitheroe 1 Prescot Cables 2 (Doran, Joe Nicholson)

Maxing the Dayrider

If a bus journey involves one operator, you can go a surprisingly long way for a small fare. A trip from Liverpool to Coppull United on Arriva buses cost the reasonable sum of £5.20. It is not the quickest journey, but many routes have WiFi, and there is nothing like knowing you have passed from one local authority to another by the rise or fall in the number of writing errors caused by bouncing over potholes.

A few years ago, I would not have made a trip like this, as getting timetables would have involved a lengthy call to an enquiry office. Large areas of the country should have had a "Here be dragons" sign on the map, as they were some distance from a train service. Haydock and Ashton in Makerfield rarely impinge on my consciousness, so I was surprised to find quite substantial settlements with a bus every few minutes. On arrival in Coppull, I made for the Co-Op. I cannot fault their prices at the end of the day: even if they sell items just before they go off for next to nothing, you save them the cost of taking unsold stock away, so I grabbed something to eat for loose change.

These pages do not follow televised sport, but I like a television transmitter in the background, in this case Winter Hill. Apparently it sends out different signals in four directions.

After an overcast day, the evening turned out bright and sunny. The sun was low in the sky, and if we had been playing towards the clubhouse I would have been looking straight into it. The sun and the trees that surround the ground gave a combination of shots well lit from the front, and some shadows.

Neil Prince

Danny Flood

Playing into the sun is not always good.

Ben Morrow

Phil Bannister made a welcome return.

The hosts had floodlights, which they turned on from the beginning of the evening. I think the main purpose of the lights is to illuminate training, the West Lancashire League do not have evening games in the winter. By the end of the game, the lights were making a similar impact to street lights.

Jonah O'Reilly

This game, and that on Tuesday at Charnock Richard, was at least in part to try out some "possibles". I did not attend the earlier game: by all reports I did not miss much, as the hosts won 5-0, a bit disconcerting given the difference in league position. This game was a much better performance, with a 3-1 win.

After the game, I had more cause to be glad of Phil Bannister's return, as his parents gave me a lift to Wigan, which, with the assistance of technology telling me where my bus would be and the driver finishing his cigarette, got me home half an hour earlier than I anticipated. These pages often record the 10A as a bus where all human life is there; however, the 352 put up some stiff competition: We were joined by two young ladies deep in conversation. Unfortunately, one was sitting at the front of the bus and the other at the back, and one had difficulty recalling she had travelled outside St Helens.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen here.

Final score: Coppull United 1 Prescot Cables 3.

Putting a couple past the Class of 92

There are a number of ways to get to Salford City, where Prescot Cables were playing in the Preliminary Round of the FA Trophy. There are bus routes along the main road passing Moor Lane, and the 93, a local bus for local people, going to the other end. Last time I used it, the driver pretended not to have heard of Moor Lane, despite the bus travelling along it, and the stop being named in the timetable. This time I had a Plusbus ticket, which solved that problem, but the driver claimed not to know what it was, then asked for the "other bit", saying, "when I see these tickets (so he had heard of them), they are in two parts - you did not just pay £3.70 for this one". Having established he meant the railway ticket, I got my wallet out, at which point he decided he did not need it after all. It would have been easier to say, "There's nothing for you here".

The team bus had its own issues, with a bird flying in to the windscreen on the M62. Some mentioned a pigeon, with Neil Prince and Sam Corlett opting for a pheasant - an important question, as the cooking times are completely different. Applying half remembered physics to the "spider's web" on the windscreen, and the Daily Telegraph letters page (many of whose readers know a thing or two about pheasants) reporting birds suicidally diving onto the road, I am going with Neil and Sam.

This was our first visit to Salford since the club changed ownership. The first noticeable change was the programme, with last season's title of Tangerine Barmy replaced by Red Ammie, in recognition of the change of playing colours. There were also television cameras used by the University of Salford to produce highlights packages and footage for a possible BBC programme at the end of the season.

Sam Corlett gets on telly (possibly)

Liam Dodd's welcome return from injury allowed James McCulloch to move to midfield, which many feel is his best position. Of course, a player's best position is not necessarily where he will end up, if he is the best player available who can play somewhere else.

Liam Dodd

James McCulloch

I started on the Moor Lane side, but the sun came out after about 5 minutes, so moved round to my more usual position behind the goal. Salford took the lead after half an hour with a shot from the edge of the penalty area that left Ciaran Gibson no chance. We continued to press, and were rewarded just before half time, when a scramble to get on the end of a corner led to the ball falling to Antony Shinks, who forcefully put it in the net.

Antony Shinks scores - picture included on the "goal is a goal" principle

The second half provided easier conditions for me, with the sun behind me. As the half progressed, Neil Prince brought on fresh legs, replacing Antony Shinks with Mason Ryan, and Sam Corlett with himself, a combination that paid off in the 75th minute, when a pass from Neil Prince ...

 ... found an advancing Mason Ryan ...

... who neatly put it away.

The upset got us a nomination for Non League Review's Team of the Week, coming in second in the popular vote to Colne FC. You cannot mention everyone in a post like this, and it is always easy to concentrate on the goal scorers, but this was a superb team performance, in which everyone played their part.

Defending a free kick

After the game, I headed to the other end of Moor Lane, and caught the 98, which goes along the main road, and is therefore familiar with carrying strangers. My ticket was accepted without demur.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen here.

Final score: Salford City 1, Prescot Cables 2 (Shinks, Ryan)